


like a sudden flight of birds

by starstrikes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Actually unrequited love, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, AtsuKage Week 2020, Developing Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Kageyama-centric, M/M, Personal Growth, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i wrote y'all a romance, positive depictions of miya atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24144592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrikes/pseuds/starstrikes
Summary: There are these chances—the ones that come flying overhead, streaking through the sky, waiting for a jump and a catch.It takes Tobio a couple wrong chances before the right one comes swooping by like a shooting star. This time, Tobio jumps for the catch and doesn't let go.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 69
Kudos: 607





	like a sudden flight of birds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for atsukage week 2020! Technically written for day 7 (open prompt) but has elements which fit into day 1 (rival) and day 3 (touch). I'm a few days late on this but it's the thought that counts i guess!!
> 
> Because it's never explicitly said so in the fic: this is one of those soulmate aus where u get two names on either wrist and one is your soulmate while the other is your worst enemy. everything else should be pretty well explained within the fic
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy :D

When Tobio wakes up on his tenth birthday, _侑_ on his right wrist and _徹_ on his left, he doesn’t really feel any different at all.

It’s strange. The books always described it as something romantic, the universe giving you the gift of people you’re destined to be with, but this is nothing like that at all. Instead, Tobio’s class gathers around him during break, peeking at his wrists with curiosity. Tobio flushes from the attention and stammers out some quiet excuses, not having the guts to admit he was asleep when they appeared.

He doesn’t really get it, why people say his names are so special. It’s not like he knows who _侑_ and _徹_ are. Tobio tries very hard to imagine what they would look like and still comes up blank. For now, they remain intangible and unreal to Tobio, who is honestly more concerned about if volleyball practice this afternoon will be cancelled due to the rain.

They’re just words on his wrist, barely names of actual people Tobio might meet one day. He really doesn’t get why everybody makes such a big fuss out of them. Thankfully, class starts and he gets left alone afterwards. 

Under the table, Tobio peeks at his names again, the bold strokes of ink that appeared overnight and will stay with him for the rest of his life. He spares a passing thought about who they are and who they will be to him, but then the bell rings for the end of the school day and he has to get to Kazuyo-san’s for volleyball.

And so, they’re forgotten.

↢↣

On the morning his names appeared, his mother studied his wrists. His father is out to start the car. Neither of them mentions his birthday.

“Single character names, they look strong,” his mother only says, her eyes sharp. Tobio should know better by this point, but he relishes in her subtle acknowledgment of his birthday anyways. 

Later, Miwa ushers him into her room, fawning over his wrists. 

“The character on your left is probably Tooru.” His sister grins, searching it up on her phone. “It means to pierce or to strike.”

Tobio traces the character on his skin. It didn’t hurt when the ink appeared, nor did they protrude. The bold, sure strokes simply set into him, like they seeped into his pores and made a home there for themselves permanently.

“There are a few ways to read the character for the name on your right,” Miwa frowns as she scrolls through the pages. “The most common form would be Yuki, I guess. It means the urge to eat.”

She giggles, the sound ringing out in the small room. “Your names are so interesting, Tobio. Aren’t you excited to meet them one day? I wonder who will be your enemy, I bet it’s Tooru. Yuki seems like a nice person’s name.”

“Statistically speaking lots of people don’t meet their soulmates,” Tobio replies, with all the wisdom of a ten-year-old. Miwa has it easy, her names are generic enough and she’d already meet one of her soulmates. 

She didn’t have names as pointed as _to pierce_ or _urge to eat_. Tobio lets her have her fun imagining who his soulmates will be anyways because it made her happy. 

They’d grown apart when she quit volleyball. Tobio leans his head on his sister’s shoulder, letting out noncommittal hums at the imaginary stories she spun, basking in the warmth of her voice.

↢↣

When he gets picked up by Kazuyo-san after school, he doesn’t make a fuss of Tobio’s newly obtained names during volleyball practice. He tosses the ball high and sure just as usual for Tobio to set back to him.

“Did you have a good birthday?” he asks casually over the table as they watch the newest reruns of the Adlers’ games. 

Tobio watches the ball cut a straight line to the opposite side of the court. “It was alright.”

Kazuyo-san laughs in that airy, knowing way of his. “I think there’s a certain beauty of it, that your names appear on your wrists.”

Tobio nods mindlessly, immersed in the sharp lines of #20’s back as he jumped into the motion for a spike.

“I mean it,” Kazuyo-san says lightly, but his words carry a weight with them. “You use your hands for so much, especially in volleyball. Each underarm you receive a ball with, it’s with your wrists.”

“We must take care of ourselves, Tobio,” Kazuyo-san continues on, fiddling with the volume on the remote. “Not just for ourselves, but for our names as well. Your wrists and hands will become the most important part of your body as you continue to play, so we can become better.”

Tobio casts his eyes down, where his names sat on his wrist. He hasn’t thought about it that way before. Suddenly, his names seem a little more special, like they’d just been given meaning.

He doesn’t mind them that much, he supposes. Not if they could be by his side in volleyball.

“I have two single character names,” he states, lifting them to show them off. “Miwa says they’re read Tooru and Yuki.”

“They sound like good names.” Kazuyo-san grins at him across the table. Then the topic is dropped because they’re both leaping out of their seats, whooping as the Adlers score another point.

↢↣

Tobio is twelve when he first walks into Kitagawa Daiichi’s volleyball gym, when he first sets his eyes on Oikawa Tooru’s toss and run-up, when he watches Oikawa’s perfect form soar.

“That’s Oikawa Tooru,” the coach introduces in the wake of awestruck gasps from the rest of the entourage. “He’s our starting setter.”

Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa _Tooru_.

He thinks _oh_ , struck by the thunderclap of Oikawa’s serve. On his left wrist, Oikawa’s name burns.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa exclaims, rushing to get under the ball. He sets it into a perfect arc and Tobio watches as #4 comes swinging hard from the left, the ball in just the right spot for him to spike.

 _To pierce._ He recalls, eyes wide as he watches Oikawa raise his hand for a high-five. That sounds about right.  
Kazuyo-san had said that his names would be by his side in volleyball. Tobio counts himself lucky enough to get a soulmate who played as well. 

Oikawa prepares for another serve amidst supportive cheering. Across the gym, Tobio falls in love.

↢↣

The thing about loving Oikawa is: he makes it so _difficult_. Tobio chases and chases and somehow it still feels like he’s never making any ground.

Four months into the year, Oikawa stops walking away whenever Tobio approaches with a question and starts verbally rejecting him before walking away. Tobio thinks that this is some sort of progress as well.

Then the coach puts him in the starting lineup for a practice match against a neighborhood school. In the last set, Tobio sets a perfect toss to Iwaizumi to win them the match, letting himself revel in the enthusiastic hair ruffle Iwaizumi gives him afterwards.

Oikawa doesn’t speak to him for the next two weeks.

In afternoon practice fifteen days after the match, Oikawa gives him a haughty ‘humph’ before stalking away snootily. Tobio counts it as a personal victory anyways.

It becomes some sort of routine for Tobio to approach Oikawa with a ball in hand after practice. Oikawa will wave him away with a taunt and Tobio will waddle away, satisfied by the sliver of interaction.

He’s figured early on that the reason Oikawa was so shifty around him was because Tobio’s entire existence threatened his position. Tobio is a setter, and Tobio is good at being one. Unless one of them has something more to offer, they’ll always be stuck in an arms race for the position.

Tobio thinks he’s fine with this, stealing glances at Oikawa during practice and relishing in the tidbits of conversation Oikawa would grant him. Kazuyo-san had said his names would be with him during volleyball and Oikawa is definitely by his side, forcing him to become better with every toss, every serve.

Tobio’s potential is higher, but it doesn’t change the fact that Oikawa is the better setter now. Tobio thinks he can excuse it when Oikawa seethes every time Tobio is chosen to play instead, reasons that it’s because Oikawa doesn’t see Tobio as worthy yet. 

So Tobio practices. Iwaizumi is Oikawa’s spiker and he’s already shown that he won’t take lightly to Tobio treading on his territory, so Tobio makes friends with Kindaichi and Kunimi instead, and spends each practice dedicating himself to the sport. 

If he becomes better, Oikawa will look at him one day. Tobio is quiet by nature, but he _is_ an athlete. Competitiveness runs in his veins, spurs him on every day. If Oikawa is unwilling to look at him, then Tobio will make him do so. 

Until then, Tobio can settle for wanting.

↢↣

On the day before Oikawa is set to graduate, Tobio confesses. His left wrist is bare today, the character for Tooru stark against his pale skin.

Tobio isn’t particularly religious, but standing in the corner of the corridor outside the volleyball gym, he thinks: this is a shrine. This is a shrine and he is the priest, holding his arm out like a measly offering to a god named Oikawa Tooru. The mile of silence that stretches between the two of them as Oikawa stares at his name on Tobio’s wrist is his hymn.

Then Oikawa laughs, the sound filled with unbidden contempt. Tobio resolutely doesn’t lift his head from where he’s bowed it in prayer, clenching his eyes shut in rejection. 

It’s for the best. This way he doesn’t have to see some sort of sick satisfaction and delight flood Oikawa’s face when he rips off his wristbands to show Tobio his names.

Printed neatly on both his wrists, he has _Hajime_ and _Wakatoshi_.

↢↣

Oikawa graduates. Kazuyo-san falls ill. Tobio attends his funeral with a ramrod-straight back. Kazuyo-san gave him volleyball, so it becomes his oxygen, his life.

It’s different now. Tobio is starting setter now, and he plays every game except for the ones with the second string. He can honor Kazuyo-san this way, every time he is given a chance to play. Kazuyo-san had always stressed about self-maintenance, so Tobio makes sure his nails are always trimmed down and his meals are balanced just the way he was taught.

He practices until he is the best in the prefecture, then he practices some more because it still isn’t enough. Kindaichi spikes, Kunimi blocks, Tobio sets and sets until his fingers are rubbed raw, just short of blistering. They win and win and then they lose and lose. Tobio’s toss leaves his fingers with practiced precision and without anybody to spike it, falls with broken wings. Tobio quits the team.

Kunimi and Kindaichi apply to Aoba Johsai. Tobio fails the entrance test to Shiratorizawa. The coach for the Karasuno High School Volleyball team collapses and retires.

Then, in the spring of his first year in high school, he meets Hinata Shouyou.

Life works in such funny ways.

↢↣

_Thought of by you all day, I think of you.  
The birds sing in the shelter of a tree._

↢↣

It takes him two minutes on court to realise that Hinata is a revelation in the making.

Hinata jumps, taking off into the air like second nature. For the first time in a long, long time, Tobio’s toss flies.

His heart is pounding in sudden excitement, something akin to reverence. Hinata takes his toss and sets it free, leaving fluttering feathers to trail in the wake of the spike.

Hinata smiles like the sun coming out after a prayer of rain, pumping his fists in excitement, but his eyes are dark and hungry, curving into crescents at the sight of first blood.

Then Hinata turns to look at him, gaze still filled with unspeakable satisfaction. He tells Tobio to give him another toss. Tobio sets, Hinata spikes. They make it onto the team.

 _I’m going to make a monster out of you._ Tobio muses to himself, accepting Hinata’s enthusiastic high-five. He wonders when his tosses won’t be enough anymore.

Hinata Shouyou is going to break his heart one day. Hinata is going to take the remaining shards of Tobio’s heart and he is going to crush them into unfixable pieces. Hinata with his insatiable thirst for each set, each spike. Hinata in all his monstrous, beautiful glory, reaching for skies beyond Tobio’s reach. 

(”If you get really good, somebody who’s even better will come and find you,” Kazuyo-san says, eyes sparkling. “I promise you.”)

There are some things you just know. Tobio might turn Hinata into a monster, but he knew from the very first spike that Hinata Shouyou was going to _ruin_ him. 

Tobio shouldn’t indulge in his smiles, the way his face lights up when he manages to hit a spike, the genuine way he tells Tobio “nice toss” afterwards. Oikawa should have been enough of a lesson. 

Hinata smiles, wide and wild. Tobio really shouldn’t, but he falls anyway because, in the end, he’s always going to be a creature of bad habit.

↢↣

“Why do you cover your names?” Sugawara asks him out of curiosity one day.

Tobio knows he means well, but the question makes him wary anyways, discreetly checking the wrappings of the sports tape around his wrists to make sure they aren’t coming loose.

“Woah, sorry.” Sugawara backtracks, sensing Tobio’s discomfort. “I didn’t mean to imply anything, lots of people cover their names as well.”

Tobio cocks his head, considering the situation. Aside from Hinata, Sugawara was the player he was closest to on the team since they practiced together as setters. Tobio trusts him enough to talk about this.

“It’s okay.” He says quietly, loosening the tape on his left wrist. “I just don’t like to talk about it.”

Sugawara takes his left hand, flipping it over to take in the name. Tobio knows he recognises it at once because Sugawara flinches and tries very hard to pretend that he didn’t. The way Sugawara’s shoulders tense up is enough of a tell that Tobio knows at once he’s made the older setter uncomfortable.

Neither of them says anything as Tobio tightens the tape over his wrist again. It’d taken him ages to find a tape that didn’t interfere with his playing. He needed a brand that wouldn’t come off too easily, but it also had to be thin enough it didn’t really change the way the ball bounced off his arms. 

Miwa had found a perfect brand for him a few months ago, an expensive type of tape that celebrities liked to use when they were filming. She’d stumbled across it on one of her jobs and sent Tobio a pack of eight the next chance she got. 

Tobio spent two hours trying to get it to wrap just the right way, with no overlapping strips. Then he’d taken pictures and sent them back to Miwa. It’s lonely nowadays, now that Miwa has moved to Tokyo for her apprenticeship. When Miwa sent back a beaming selfie four hours later, the house didn’t feel that empty for a moment.

“Is he your soulmate?” Sugawara brings up cautiously, passing over the cart of balls for Tobio to lock into the equipment room. “I mean, he could be your enemy, you never know.”

Tobio pauses, thinks of nine months spent chasing Oikawa’s coattails and living for each scrap of attention like a starved dog. He remembers Oikawa’s raised arm and Iwaizumi’s hand coming to wrap around Oikawa’s wrist with familiarity.

Come to think of it, Oikawa had Izwaizumi’s name on his left wrist. Who would have thought? The signs were right there laid out in front of Tobio and he was still clinging to some shred of hope that Oikawa was his. How naive of him.

Tobio casts his gaze to the side, looking away from Sugawara’s concern. “Yeah, he’s my soulmate.”

Sugawara clearly has words he wants to say, but he interprets Tobio’s silence as refusal to speak and clams up. Tobio tastes a sinking bitterness in his mouth at how easily the topic had been dropped. 

Something in him yearns to be understood, to be heard. This was the easily the most direct confrontation he’d gotten about the subject in his life, and some part of him just wishes Sugawara would keep asking.

 _Ask me._ He wants to yell at Sugawara as they lock up to head home. _I don’t know how to talk about it. Please._

“Have a safe trip home, Kageyama-kun,” Sugawara says as they reach the front gates, waving a hand at him. 

“Yeah, you too.” Tobio swallows. 

It would be faster to just take the train, but he walks home alone to an empty apartment in the cold anyway. Tonight, it feels fitting.

↢↣

Tobio spends half a year drowning next to Hinata, sinking deeper into his playstyle, his every move. He bows his head and accepts it when they call him king of the court, all while molding himself around Hinata.

He doesn’t matter, he figures quickly enough. As long as Hinata keeps jumping and Hinata has a ball to spike every time, nothing else really matters. Hinata is an unpolished diamond, one waiting to shine. Tobio’s only job is to provide the polish. 

He can do this much for Hinata who jumps for every single one of his tosses, who handed him his love for volleyball back in a single spike.

All-Japan national youth training camp sends him an invite. Tobio steps into the gymnasium in Tokyo and begins to swim upwards. 

They’re different here. Different from Karasuno and Hinata and home. If Hinata is a monster in the making, here is a pack of wolves snapping at each other’s heels at every chance.

It’s not that any of them are unfriendly. The other players are welcoming to him, giving him tips and pointers on how to improve. Tobio takes their preferences for spikes and makes it part of his arsenal of weapons until he knows exactly how everybody likes their tosses.

Free time is a comfortable affair as well, with people breaking off into groups to gossip or play cards. Nobody is hostile and Tobio finds himself fitting in easily despite his awkwardness.

It’s just that sometimes, on the court, somebody will spike a ball or make a receive and their eyes will sharpen in a familiar sort of chilling intensity. Here is a pack of wolves who live and breathe volleyball in the form of Japan’s most promising fifteen and sixteen-year-olds.

Monsters seek each other out. Hoshiumi Kourai is a powder keg waiting to explode with every spike and Sakusa Kiyoomi is a hurricane on the loose, tearing through blocks without mercy.

There’s another setter here. Miya Atsumu is an enigma who Tobio cannot decipher. His play never wavers and his sets are almost always pinpoint perfect, but Tobio gets the idea that Miya still isn’t satisfied with what he’s putting out somehow. It takes Tobio a few days to realise that Miya isn’t bothered by his own playing, he’s annoyed by the spikers’ performance when Miya huffs in irritation after another blocked setup.

It bothers Tobio, reminds him relentlessly of how he was in middle school. He wonders how Miya has managed to survive this long when other players got sick of Tobio so fast. He hates that he can sort of understand Miya’s attitude more, because Miya plays like his life depends on it every time he steps on court. He is meticulous in his setting, each toss sent with packaged care. He can understand why Miya has such high demands for his spikers when he himself tries so hard.

In short, he’s very, very good. Tobio tries not to be envious because Miya is sort of an ass, but he’s not mean in any way. He waves to Tobio and occasionally lets out a whistle of appreciation if Tobio makes a good play, even if they’re on opposite sides of the net. Tobio gets the idea that he’s more cunning than anybody lets on, each word he says careful and planned. 

They don’t have much reason to interact as they’re never on the same side of the court, but Tobio finds himself wanting to start a conversation anyways, if only to understand Miya better. The problem is solved when after Hoshiumi goes on a tirade, Miya narrows his eyes at Tobio with a mockery of a smile on his face and calls him a goody-two-shoes. 

Tobio has had many names: _king, tyrant, emperor_. He’s never been called anything like a goody-two-shoes and somehow that gets at him, makes him ponder and waste winding minutes between matches. 

And so begins the snark. Miya tosses to the far left, Tobio sends one right back. Miya scores a service ace, Tobio serves the ball in a cutting line in return. Miya fakes a set and does a setter dump, Tobio tips the ball over the net with righteous satisfaction.

The problem, he finds, is that he can’t bring himself to hate Miya. Miya is an extraordinarily good setter, something Tobio can testify to after getting the chance to nail a few of his sets. Tobio can’t hate anybody that good with the same single-minded need to improve, but he can sure as hell antagonise Miya at every given opportunity.

Tobio isn’t a particularly active person in social situations, but something about Miya Atsumu infuriates him in some sort of terrible glee. Then the bomb drops.

Tobio is a person of few words, but even he’s unable to stop himself from cursing once he sees the way Miya’s name is written.

“Oh, fuck,” Tobio cusses when he sees the roster of names pinned up for the position switching exercise they were about to undergo. Every single head in hearing distance swivels in his direction and he flushes at the attention, making up a bullshit excuse about a sharp edge on his nails. 

Everybody knows Tobio’s nails are meticulously maintained, but thankfully nobody comments. Tobio wants to sink into a hole and bury himself alive in mortification.

The worst thing is, he can tell the exact moment Miya has the same realisation as him. From his position he can see Miya, standing in the front row, suck in a sharp breath and let it out in a hiss, turning blaming eyes on Tobio.

Tobio is going to murder Miwa for embarrassing him like this because it’s not pronounced Yuki at all. Tobio closes his eyes in the face of the cosmic joke the universe is playing on him, because turns out the name on his right wrist is pronounced _Atsumu_.

“I have a boyfriend.” Miya—no, Atsumu hunts him down immediately after practice, catching Tobio by the forearm. His hand is too close to where his name is written on Tobio’s right wrist and Tobio jerks his arm out of Atsumu’s grasp like he’s been burnt. 

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Miya-san,” Tobio snarls back. He hates this, the way this dredges up memories of Oikawa, of _Tooru_. At least Atsumu doesn’t seem to be in any sort of denial about their situation. “I know who my soulmate is.”

Something clouds Atsumu’s expression briefly, before his eyes clear in defiance. “Good to know we’re not going to have any issue on that, Tobio-kun.”

Tobio hates the way Atsumu says his name, unwillingly taking the tape off his right wrist to show Atsumu his name. Atsumu takes off his left wristband to reveal the characters of Tobio’s name, _飛雄_ stark again his skin.

It’s fucked up, but some part of Tobio keens at the sight of his name on somebody else’s skin, some sort of divine recognition that he’s not as messed up as he thought, that somebody out there _is_ made for him, even if it turned out to be his worst enemy.

“I look forward to seeing you at nationals,” Atsumu sneers, this snide and prideful thing that hurts Tobio to look at.

“Likewise,” he offers curtly in response. No more words need to be said. 

The next day, Tobio dumps a ball right over Atsumu’s head across the net, finally reaching the light to break the surface of his invincible ocean.

Tobio smirks back at Atsumu’s glower and in the resounding whistle announcing the end of the practice match, he inhales his first breath of fresh air.

↢↣

**[TO: Miwa]**

It’s pronounced Atsumu. [15:38]

**[FROM: Miwa]**

[15:44] Huh??  
[15:44] 侑???  
[15:44] You met the other one???  
[15:45] In Tokyo???

**[TO: Miwa]**

Yeah. He’s a setter. [15:47]

**[FROM: Miwa]**

[15:48] Of course he is  
[15:48] I don’t know what else I expected  
[15:49] Come quickly, I’ll buy takeout for dinner  
[15:49] You can tell me all about him then

**[TO: Miwa]**

Okay, I should be back at around seven. [15:50]  
I’ll see you soon. [15:51]

Outside, the train hurtles past countless people and places, framed by a backdrop of soft blue. Today, the skies are clear, lazy wisps of clouds rushing by. Tobio leans against the glass, watching the world blur into smears of color.

What is there to tell? Tobio props his head up with his right arm, feeling the familiar texture of the tape pressing against his check. Underneath, Atsumu’s name flares with a feather-light sting to it.

Thanks. [15:52]

↢↣

_Above the prayer of rain, unacred blue,  
not paradise, goes nowhere endlessly._

↢↣

Nobody comments on his foul mood when he returns from the camp. It builds and builds when they just keep missing his tosses, like water trickling through a hole in the wall of a dam.

It bursts in the middle of a practice match. He reverts back to middle school and gets frustrated over every single botched spike, every blocked attack. “It isn’t my fault!” he grounds out, anger steeling his spine.

Then the most miraculous thing happens— Hinata smiles in the face of his fury, stepping out from the silence to crown him king of the court and Tobio breathes once more.

Tobio cries for the first time since Kazuyo-san’s funeral that night, silently shaking in the safety of his blanket. The next day he goes to practice, and if he sends his first toss to Hinata, then nobody needs to know it was out of gratitude.

They win the first match at nationals and spend the night watching grainy playback clips of the Hyogo regionals, breaking down each play. Tobio watches Atsumu race across the court to jump into a set with a wide grin plastered to his face. 

On the screen, the ball curves beautifully into the waiting palm of a spiker. Atsumu lifts his fists to the sky in joy. Tobio smiles just a little behind the shield of his hand. He can understand this much.

Right before their match, Atsumu comes to find him.

“Tobio-kun.” Atsumu’s palm is warm against the small of his back. Tobio fights the urge to slouch into the brief touch, offering a wry grin in return. 

“How ya been? Doin’ good?” Atsumu lifts a hand in greeting now that Karasuno has noticed his appearance. 

He’s gotten his bangs trimmed, Tobio can’t help but notice.

“I’m really hoping ya go all out today, m’kay?” Tobio furiously wants to wipe the smirk off Atsumu’s face. “Cause there’s nothing I hate more than having to waste my time playing against scrubs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he starts slowly, ignoring Hinata’s offended squawk. “But I’m not a scrub.”

“I know, I know,” Atsumu laughs, the sound soft and airy. “He’s a total scrub though.” 

Tobio bites down a stinging rebuke. Atsumu can come for him all he wants, they’re very literally destined to do so. But to make snide remarks against Hinata who had done nothing but redefined volleyball for Tobio in the past few months was taking it too far.

“But we don’t suck at all.” He lets his gaze turn sharp with just a threat of bared teeth. “So I don’t think you have to worry.”

There’s a beginning of a snarl in Atsumu’s expression, but he smooths it out in time to huff out a laugh. 

“I see. Good luck then, Tobio-kun.” Atsumu reaches to brush two fingers lightly against the inside of Tobio’s wrapped right wrist, daring and shy at the same time. 

Struck by some unseen deity of courage, Tobio knocks the back of his palm against the tape on Atsumu’s left wrist, withdrawing quicker than a bolt of lightning. 

When he turns back to the team after Atsumu leaves, he finds Hinata looking at him with a strange expression on his face. He’d been so absorbed in talking to Atsumu he’d forgotten to stretch properly which he drops to do, Hinata’s gaze following him.

“What?” he asks, blinking away the remnants of lingering snark. “Did you forget your shoes again?”

“It’s nothing,” Hinata dismisses, looking away. Tobio shrugs it off as pre-game jitters, rolling out each ankle carefully. He takes a deep breath and gets ready to play.

When they beat Inarizaki after three grueling sets, Tobio reaches underneath the net to firmly grasp Atsumu’s hand in his own, hiding a smile as Atsumu stretches out his fingers to swipe the tips against Tobio’s wrist in acknowledgment.

“See ya later, Tobio-kun.” Atsumu pouts, exhaustion dragging the fight out of him. 

“Yeah.” Tobio pants in return. “See you.”

He’s walking away when he hears Atsumu call for Hinata, turning back just in time to hear Atsumu declare that he’ll set for Hinata one day.

There’s an ugly feeling twisting his insides, one that he places as jealousy after a moment. The horrible, horrible thing is that he’s not sure who he’s envious of. There’s a part of him that wants to be jealous of Atsumu, for his causal confidence and experienced skill or at Hinata for being recognised so easily. 

A part of him pours poison in his ear, whispers _why is he looking at somebody else_. He stares at the inquisitive and considering look on Hinata’s face, then at Atsumu’s cocksure expression and wishes he knew who the voice was talking about.

“But before that happens, I’m gonna kick your ass in next year’s Inter-High.” Tobio catches a glimpse of Atsumu’s eyes before he turns his back on them, intense and focused. “So ya better be ready.”

Tobio runs his eyes over the sharp lines of Atsumu’s back, the lonely figure he cuts as he walks back to his team. 

Even after losing, Atsumu keeps his head held high. Tobio kind of hates him for it.

↢↣

“It’s going to be so weird without the third years next year,” Yachi sighs as they clean up the remains of the graduation party they threw together on the last day of school for the year.

“It’s got to be worse for Nishinoya-senpai though,” Yamaguchi comments, folding up the net for storage. “I mean, Asahi-senpai is going to Tokyo for college. Must be hard having to separate with your soulmate.”

Tobio tunes the chatter out, focused on clearing up the rest of the litter. 

“Have any of you met your soulmates yet?” Yachi asks later as they’re walking towards the gates, eyes round with innocent curiosity. Tobio’s chest constricts anxiously at the sudden question, instinctively hiding his wrists.

“Not yet,” Yamachui shrugs. “Tsukki’s met one of his though.”

The conversation shifts to Tsukishima and Tobio lets out a sigh of relief, missing the way Hinata glances at him.

“What about you, Hinata-kun?” Yachi sidles up to Hinata’s side, her ponytail bouncing in the wind. 

“Huh?” Hinata startles. His smile is out of place, falling on the wrong side of forced. “No, not yet.”

“And you, Kageyama-kun?” Yachi doesn’t seem to register Hinata’s awkwardness, but Tobio does. He takes in the way Hinata’s shoulders curve in on himself, his posture slouched. Something’s wrong and Tobio wants to fix it instantly.

“Feels bad for whoever has the king’s name,” Tsukishima sneers. “It would be horrible to get stuck with somebody like him.”

Before Tobio can defend himself, Hinata cuts in, eyes blazing, “Don’t say that.”

Tsukishima clicks his tongue, turning to leave when they reach the exit. “Figures you’d stick up for him.”

Tobio watches their retreating backs. Out of the five of them, only Hinata and him head in the same direction for home, so they walk side by side, Hinata pushing his bicycle by his side. 

It takes Tobio a while to work up the courage to ask, ignoring the way the setting sun lights up Hinata’s hair, turning his face burnt orange, “What was that about?” 

There are very few situations where Tobio has seen Hinata become genuinely nervous, but the way Hinata’s hand starts fumbling with the hem of his shirt is distinctly apprehensive.

“Nothing. I just don’t think anybody should say that about another person.” Hinata pauses, fiddling with the handlebars of his bike. Then he looks directly at Tobio.

“Don’t worry, Kageyama.” Hinata’s wearing an expression Tobio’s never been seen before, a passing wistfulness flickering across his features. “I think anybody would be lucky to have your name.”

Tobio’s throat feels dry, the words he wants to say not coming out. There are three words that are trying to claw their way into existence, words he can’t tell Hinata lest he wants to break his own heart again.

“Let’s go home,” he says instead. Something in his chest shifts when Hinata smiles, a lingering mournfulness to the way he looks away towards the sunset.

 _Why do you look like that?_ Tobio wants to ask desperately, picking up speed to keep up with Hinata’s pace. _Why won’t you look at me?_

Hinata walks Tobio to the train station without another word, waving goodbye as they near.

Tobio misses his train by seconds because he spends an extra minute watching Hinata pedal away, his chest inexplicably tight.

↢↣

In their second year, Inarizaki whoops their asses the Spring Inter-High. They played on a deuce in the third set until their scores had reached the thirties and some more.

Atsumu smirks at him across the net when Tobio chooses to reach out with his left hand instead, letting the tips of his fingers brush against his name on Atsumu’s wrist, an echo of the previous year. Silent acknowledgment sparks the air between them.

“I win this time, Tobio-kun.” Atsumu hunts him down after the matches for the day are over. His hair is still plastered to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks flushed. Something in Tobio twinges at the thought that Atsumu must have come directly to find him from their celebration. 

Watching the way Atsumu scrubs at his neck with a towel, Tobio can’t help but ask, “Are you going to college?”

“Nah,” Atsumu drawls, his accent leaking into his words. “I’ll probably try my luck with the league.”

“But first,” Atsumu starts. His eyes are dark and hungry despite his exhaustion, but they’re for Tobio and Tobio only. ”I’ve gotta win this whole damn thing.”

“I’ll see you on the podium,” Tobio says in lieu of _good luck_. “But I’ll win the next time we face each other.”

Atsumu smiles back. Tobio gets the idea that this one might even be genuine.

Inarizaki goes on to win the spring tournament that year. Tobio spends the rest of the week watching Atsumu set and set and set, the memory of Atsumu’s eyes on him following him all the way back to Miyagi.

↢↣

It goes a little something like this: Tobio wins an award for best setter in his third year and suddenly he is big news. He gets four different magazine features and local news stations are suddenly queuing up for interviews. There is an extensive four-page spread on him in the November edition of Volleyball Monthly.

This is the question on everybody’s mind: Is Kageyama Tobio going to be the next Olympic superstar?

The same question picks at Tobio, makes him spend sleepless nights tossing and turning. He wants to play. This is something that was never in doubt, but at the same time, the idea of going to the Olympics signifies the end of his time at Karasuno.

He’s not foolish enough to believe that he would be able to play with the same team forever, but perhaps at some point, he’d started hoping he would be able to keep playing with Hinata. 

It’s not a farfetched dream, as far as it goes. They’re the only two aiming to keep playing after graduation unless Tsukishima actually makes true on his bluff to join his university team. He certainly could if he actually wanted to. The two of them have come a long way since their beginning dates and Tobio knew he had the skills to continue.

But Hinata? Hinata wanted to play for a living and Tobio understood that more than anything else. But to make the national team was very different from playing on a high school team, and while Tobio is very good at wanting, he knew no matter how much he wanted Hinata wasn’t going to make the national team. 

Everybody says that Hinata needed Tobio, but the truth was, Tobio probably needed Hinata just as much in return, if not more. He needs Hinata to reassure himself that somebody was always going to be there to hit his toss, that somebody was always going to give their all on the court. This way he can step into each match fearlessly, without doubting himself

Tobio knows it can’t last forever, but he doesn’t want to give it up yet. Hinata is too nice to ever tell him _I don’t need you anymore_ , but Tobio can see with each spike, each win Hinata’s wings grow wider and a part of Tobio isn’t ready to let him go yet. 

When the invitation for the national team comes, Takeda-san bursting into the gym excitedly with his glasses askew bringing the news, Tobio is torn. The gym bursts into frantic activity as everybody takes in the information and Tobio doesn’t stop getting congratulated for weeks.

“Of course you have to go, that’s a huge opportunity!” Hinata tells him as they walk home, pushing his bicycle between the two of them. “I’ll watch all your matches.”

Tobio’s throat constricts and he resolutely doesn’t think about how this is a form of _I don’t need you anymore_ as well.

“Thanks,” he swallows heavily. “Catch up fast, we’ll be playing together soon, yeah?”

Hinata’s gaze is kind but not naive. Gone is the boy who stepped into the Karasuno gym and needed Tobio’s toss to fly. Tobio was stupid enough to believe that if his play was good enough, he could keep Hinata tied to him. 

No cage of any kind could contain Hinata Shouyou. Tobio sees it now, the restless way Hinata fidgets sometimes, always yearning for more. He gave Tobio his wings back and now it is Hinata’s time to soar.

“Yeah,” Hinata says, but his eyes are elsewhere. The way he refuses to look at Tobio tells him all he needs to know.

The rest of the walk is spent in silence.

↢↣

On the day they graduate, Tobio pulls Hinata aside, hiding the two of them in an alcove behind the gym.

Hinata watches with wide eyes as he rips the second button off his jacket, holding it out for Hinata to take. 

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Tobio blurts out, a plea for Hinata to just stay. He’s not ready for their partnership to end, for Hinata and him to graduate and stop playing together. 

They stand in silence until Hinata plucks the button out of his hand and turns his palm towards the sky, returning the button to him and forcing his hand to curl around the piece of plastic.

“I won’t take it.” Hinata’s voice is steady, calm in the eye of Tobio’s typhoon.

“Why?” Tobio asks the question he’s been meaning to ask for three years, every time he sees Hinata’s expression darken and is reminded of a train station at sunset, watching Hinata’s figure disappear amongst the streets. 

“Because Kageyama…“ Hinata starts, trailing off. His eyes shift to the side before he takes off his wristbands, presenting his names to Tobio.

“Oh,” Tobio breaths. 

Hinata has _飛雄_ on both his wrists.

“I won’t take it, Kageyama.” Hinata’s tone is sharp and sure, with no room for objection. “Because I’m in love with you as well.”

Tobio’s head snaps up from where he’d bowed it to fight the urge to cry. “What?”

Hinata repeats those five words like they are the solution to all of their problems, that they could solve the rising turmoil in Tobio’s mind, “I’m in love with you.”

Inexplicably, he is reminded of a very different situation in a very similar place. He thinks: this is a shrine, this space between Hinata and him, tucked behind the volleyball gymnasium they’d spent their lives in for the last three years.

This is a shrine, but Tobio is the god this time around and Hinata’s confession is his prayer, Tobio’s name his offering. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t have my name. You’d have said something earlier on,” Hinata presses on, his voice soft and steadfast. “I’m going to go to Brazil next year.”

Tobio shakes, trembling. He can’t stop it when the tears start overflowing, riveting down his face. There are no words to be said.

“Dumbass,” Hinata laughs, fond and warm. He wipes Tobio’s tears gently, thumb brushing over Tobio’s cheekbones with utmost care. Tobio’s heart shatters all over again.

It takes him three years, but Hinata Shouyou did break his heart after all. Tobio cries and cries and finds that he can’t even enjoy the irony of it all.

↢↣

_How does it happen that our lives can drift  
far from ourselves, while we stay trapped in time,  
queuing for death?_

↢↣

Come April, he gets six different scouting offers from professional teams and twelve more from universities all over Japan.

He could get a sports scholarship to pretty much any university in the country, four years of education paid for as long as he keeps playing volleyball, and he certainly has no intention of stopping. 

The Schiweiden Adlers are in need of a new setter. Tobio remembers childhood afternoons spent pouring over tapes, analysing each play with Kazuyo-san, happiness amongst otherwise lifeless days.

He sends an email back the same day. 

It’s a bit of a shame, really. He’d actually been aiming to play for the Black Jackals because he heard their setter was retiring the year before. But it seems Atsumu beat him in that regard as well when Tobio checks the Jackals’ website to see a picture of him being added into the roster, the title of starting setter beneath the pixelated photo of him grinning towards the camera.

He goes to tryouts for the Adlers. Two weeks later he’s setting to Ushijima and Hoshiumi. They pummel the Green Rockets and the East Japan Paper Mills to go to the finals, then they beat the Jackals as well.

Atsumu snorts as they shake hands under the net, fingers reaching to tap against the inside of Tobio’s wrist. It’s strange, this weird rapport the two of them have fallen into. They barely see each other nowadays, busy with their own training and their new teams, but they always seemed to fall back into this routine across the net.

Still, it’s fun, playing with Atsumu. When Oikawa had graduated, Tobio didn’t really have a setter to compete with anymore. Playing with Atsumu makes him realise how much he needed this: direct competition.

He’d heard through the grapevine that Oikawa had flown over to Argentina to pursue a professional career, but not much else about his progress. With Oikawa’s skills, he probably would have managed to get onto a ranked team.

Atsumu was different. While Oikawa always aimed to fight him, he and Atsumu fought for the same thing. With Oikawa, they were always trying to compete against each other. Oikawa was always focused on making sure Tobio never surpassed him while Tobio just wanted them to be equals, for Oikawa to acknowledge him. 

With Atsumu, there was none of that pressure. They both acknowledged that the other was good and they were rivals fighting for the same thing instead of against each other. Somehow, that makes all the difference.

“Congrats, Tobio-kun.” Atsumu finds him after the victory ceremony. “That was a good match.”

Atsumu’s grown out of his horrible haircut in the last two years. He still bleaches his hair, but at least he’s discovered what toner was. He’s been styling it differently too, it’s not as long and in his eyes as before. It looks good on him, paired with the way he’d filled out his jaw and shoulders in the meantime.

“It was,” Tobio admits, patting the space next to him so Atsumu can slide onto the bench he’s sitting on. “The back row attack you did in set three was really smooth, I didn’t see it coming at all.”

“Ah, it was nothin’ much,” Atsumu drawls, the sickly pale lighting of the corridor painting his face ghastly white. “The center quick you pulled off in set five was downright disgusting.”

Tobio huffs, leaning his head backwards onto the wall. “You were just too tired. I thought the deuce was never going to end.”

“Hey, Tobio-kun.” Atsumu glances over, rubbing at his wrists absentmindedly. “You wanna go out for dinner after this or something?”

Tobio startles, turning to look at Atsumu. Atsumu’s eyes dart away quickly when their gazes meet, uncharacteristically bashful. 

“What?” he questions, watching dejection pass over Atsumu’s face before amending. “I mean, sure.”

“I just mean…” Atsumu lifts a hand to scratch at his neck. “We don’t gotta hate each other to be rivals. I like to think of us as friends.”

“I’d like that,” Tobio cuts in before Atsumu takes his silence the wrong way. He’d done it all wrong with Oikawa. He was too young when it all happened and had gotten his heart broken before he’d even realised it.

Atsumu might not be his soulmate, but he was still one of Tobio’s names. Tobio thinks back to Kazuyo-san telling him that his names are always with him in volleyball, in every receive and spike and set. 

“Okay, friends,” Atsumu concedes. “Doesn’t mean we won’t wipe the floor with you next year, so you better watch out.”

↢↣

Four days after the season ends, he gets this text.

**[FROM: unknown number]**

[17:08] tobio-kun

Ah. There’s only one person who calls him that. Dinner a week ago had been an easy affair, the two of them sharing tips and anecdotes about their experiences. Despite his attitude, Atsumu was surprisingly easy to get along with.

**[TO: unknown number]**

Miya-san? [17:14]

He gets a reply after a few minutes, the notification popping up above the Karasuno group chat.

**[FROM: unknown number]**

[17:18] oh thank god  
[17:18] was worried i’d gotten the wrong number or something  
[17:19] and you know i don’t like it when you call me that

Tobio snorts, typing back a message before saving the number.

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Shame, Miya-san. [17:20]  
Is there a reason you’re texting? [17:20]

His right wrists twinges in what has to be irritation. Tobio carefully arranges his clothes next to his shoes in the suitcase he’s packing to take up to Tokyo.

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[17:21] don’t call me thattttt  
[17:21] it makes me feel so old  
[17:21] nothing, i was just bored

Tobio hesitates, looking over the scattered state of his room. Carefully, he considers the pros and cons of telling Atsumu what he’s doing. 

_Fuck it._

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

I’m packing my stuff for Olympic team training right now. [17:22]  
Training is in Tokyo. [17:23]

Shit. He shouldn’t have done that. Now Atsumu is going to think he’s lording his position on the national team over him. Tobio knows that Atsumu is one of the first alternates, but it doesn’t change that Tobio was the first choice to go to Rio and Atsumu was not. He’s fucked it all up now, he’s sure—

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[17:24] luckyyyyyy  
[17:25] bring me back a mascot in july won’t cha  
[17:25] and show those russians who they’re up against

Huh. Maybe he hasn’t fucked up that bad or at all.

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Sure, I’ll see what I can do about it. [17:27]  
First we’ll have to beat the French. [17:28]

It’s lucky that nobody is around. This way Tobio can pretend he’s not smiling when Atsumu texts back a few seconds later.

↢↣

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[10:22] do you think molten or mikasa balls are better  
[10:22] i need to get a new one for practice  
[10:22] my old one burst

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

How does that even happen? [10:59]  
Also, Mikasa. For sure. [11:00]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[11:08] i don’t know how it happened  
[11:09] [IMAGE]  
[11:09] i was practicing and it just broke

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

… [11:14]

↢↣

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[11:09] ] hey, what’s your favourite food?

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Pork katsudon curry. [11:38]  
Even better with an egg on top of it. [11:38]  
Why? [11:39]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[12:01] shit, i don’t think they come in that flavor  
[12:01] do ya like onigiri?

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Who doesn’t? [12:08]  
I just passed by a shop, actually. [12:08]  
Might go buy some for lunch. [12:09]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[12:14] if you’re gonna buy onigiri, at least support onigiri miya, won’t cha?  
[12:14] the shop in tokyo opened recently

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

[IMAGE] [12:33]  
Way ahead of you. [12:33]

↢↣

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Ha, we measured our heights today for our profiles. [16:49]  
I finally grew the last four millimeters. [16:49]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[17:27] [shaking_fists_emoticon]  
[17:27] yer kidding me right

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

How does it feel being a centimeter shorter? [18:01]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[18:26] life is so unfair  
[18:26] why am i even alive

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

That sounds like a you problem. [19:11]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[19:31] TOBIO-KUN!!!!  
[19:31] how could you be so cruel

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Don’t be so dramatic. [19:48]  
[stuck_out_tongue_emoticon] [19:48]

↢↣

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[22:08] i brke up wit hm y boyfirend  
[22:08] w ell  
[22:08] hhe br9ke u p wi5th me reakyk

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Oh. [22:21]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[22:22] dpnt sah ur soryr or whtevr  
[22:22] i t was a kong tie ago  
{22:22] i geuss that i jst wsnt simebdy t o knw

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

That? [22:23]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[22:24] tht i lovd hi m  
[22:24] danmit i reakky dud  
[22:24] i leoed hi m si goddmn nuch  
[22:25] nd it st8ll wrsnt enoguh

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**  
… [22:25]  
Have you been drinking? [22:25]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[22:26] jst a lit6le

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Please drink some water before you sleep. [22:27]  
Text me when you wake up. [22:27]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[09:07] sorry

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Don’t be. [09:35]

↢↣

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[16:24] YOU BEAT EGYPT  
[16:24] straight sets too

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Isn’t it four in the morning in Japan? [17:53]  
Please go to sleep. [17:53]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[18:42] took a nap  
[18:42] who cares gotta watch volleyball  
[18:42] don’t got practice for another two weeks anyways  
[18:43] good luck against cuba tmr

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

Please sleep more afterwards. [18:51]  
The mascots here are so enthusiastic. [18:52]  
[IMAGE] [18:52]  
I got you one of those keychains though. [18:53]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[18:54] HAHAHA you look so awkward  
[18:54] awww you remembered  
[18:54] i knew you cared tobio-kun

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

I don’t know how to feel about Rio. [18:57]  
Ushijima-san got propositioned by some American swimmers yesterday. [18:57]

**[FROM: Atsumu-kun]**

[18:58] omg  
[18:59] okay but did he accept???

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

He told them that they ‘shouldn’t play around with balls’. [19:00]  
Because they ‘should only be handled inside the court and with care’. [19:01]  
They stopped bothering him after that. [19:01]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[19:03] HAHAHAHAHAH  
[19:03] oh man i love that guy  
[19:03] give ushiwaka a pat on the shoulder tmr for me  
[19:03] okay i’ve gotta watch brazil vs canada  
[19:03] have fun celebrating and rest up for tmr

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

I will. [19:04]  
Thank you. [19:04]

↢↣

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[13:27] tobio-kun?  
[13:27] ya doing alright?  
[13:28] there’s no shame in losing  
[13:28] it’s just yer first olympics anyways

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

I didn’t want to stop. [13:46]  
I just wanted to keep playing. [13:46]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[13:47] yeah, i get what you mean  
[13:47] it happens  
[13:48] it’s not your fault  
[13:48] italy’s barely lost any matches anyways  
[13:48] stop blaming yourself

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

I don’t want to talk about it right now. [13:49]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[13:50] that’s fine  
[13:50] take your time  
[13:50] you need some alone time?

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

No. [13:51]  
Can’t we talk about something else? [13:53]  
How was your day? [13:53]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[13:53] oh a lot happened today  
[13:53] we started practice for the new season  
[13:54] we have some new faces on the roster this year  
[13:54] shion’s taking a liking to the new libero guy already  
[13:55] so you adlers better stay sharp

↢↣

Tobio goes back to Japan and mopes for two weeks. He tries to, at least, but Sokolov and Hoshiumi drag him out on day four to go shopping for kneepads, and he becomes too busy to sulk.

It’s different now. He has never lived in the same place with so many people before. His parents’ house is within walking distance to the Adlers dorms, so he should probably just stay there to avoid having to spend more money, but he finds that he likes the bustling dorm a lot better than an empty apartment.

Autumn brings the new start of the new season. Tobio exchanges his red jersey for white and gold instead, wearing his #20 like armor as he steps back out onto the court.

It feels good to be playing again. After losing, Tobio thought he would have wanted to stop playing, but being back on the court makes him feel better than before. 

“You seem happier,” Heiwajima comments mindlessly after one of their practices. 

“He’s right, you know,” Sokolov chuffs him on the shoulder as they change in the locker room. “It’s good to see you like this.”

Tobio blinks, waving them goodbye as they head out for dinner. 

Has he seemed happier? He’d been practicing harder than ever with the league matches coming up, spending each day immortalising the feeling of the ball against his fingertips again and again.

He supposes he’s been playing better recently. He’d started syncing up with Ushijima better now, getting used to the quicker rhythm of his spikes nowadays. Hirugami commented that his sets were more precise a few days ago. Hoshiumi has been jumping higher than ever these days, so Tobio’s been getting situated with his new height.

He's been playing well, but they specifically said he’d seem _happier_.

Tobio tosses a ball in the air in the privacy of his room and contemplates happiness.

A few years ago, he might have said happiness was winning with the Karasuno team. Before that, he simply would have said happiness was winning. Now? He thinks he can find happiness in simply playing, at the notion of getting better every day. 

_Oh._ Tobio has his grand revelation.

He’s changed. This is something he can’t deny anymore. A lifetime ago when he thought winning was everything, when he was still chasing the impossibility of perfection, he wouldn’t have been satisfied with his life.

 _We are constantly redefining ourselves._ Tobio considers. Life doesn’t work in black and white checkboxes, it’s learning and moving on and redefinition. 

Tobio lifts his head, at where his Karasuno jacket was hung up on the back of his door. Over ten thousand miles across the ocean, Hinata tries his jacket on and finds that it doesn’t fit anymore.

But Tobio doesn't know that. Tobio made two prophecies on the day he’d met Hinata and now they’d both been fulfilled in some sort of divine roundabout way. 

He told Hinata “see you later” on the day they graduated. He thinks that is a prophecy in itself as well. Tobio looks at the names on his wrist. Neither of them are the characters for _Shouyou_ and there’s nothing Tobio can do about it.

He thought it was the end of the world when Oikawa didn’t want him and he thought it was the end of the world again when Hinata did. And here he still is, alive and kicking.

Sometimes in life there are things that are just out of your control, some sort of divine events that are bound to happen no matter what you do. The world doesn’t end in failure, it moves on each day in redefinition. Tobio gets a full eight hours of sleep and wakes up the next morning feeling all the better for it. 

“Good morning,” he greets his teammates at practice, getting a warm chorus of responses.

“Let’s do well this season as well.” Tobio smiles at his team. They aren’t Karasuno, but maybe that’s a good thing. He thinks that they could be family in the future.

Then, he goes to redefine himself all over again.

↢↣

_It seems nothing will shift  
the pattern of our days, alter the rhyme  
we make with loss to assonance with bliss._

↢↣

He’s at dinner with the original Karasuno team when his phone buzzes.

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[19:50] tobio-kun  
[19:51] look what landed outside my window today  
[19:51] [IMAGE]  
[19:51] i just thought of you

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

I think you should reconsider your living conditions. [19:54]  
Also, I don’t look like a crow. [19:54]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[19:55] it’s just a crow don’t worry  
[19:55] and you totally do  
[19:56] its even got your head tilt!!  
[19:56] i think it’s cute

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

I do not have a ‘head tilt’. [19:57]

Tobio hesitates, working his bottom lip between his teeth. He isn’t sure what he and Atsumu are doing. They’d agree on friends, but sometimes Atsumu says things that are starting to border on flirting, and secretly, Tobio isn’t entirely sure he minds that much. This is flirting, they’re flirting, right?

do i? [19:58]

“Who’re you texting?” Tanaka slings an arm around his neck. They’d managed to gather most of the team today, with Nishinoya and Hinata both back in Japan for the winter break. Hinata’s gotten a lot tanner in the few months he was overseas in Brazil, Tobio notices.

Despite himself, Tobio flushes and drops his phone onto his lap. He’d really been hoping that everybody would be too drunk or focused on Nishinoya’s newest stories about skiing in Sweden to pay attention to him. “Is it a girlfriend? A boyfriend?”

“Rival setter,” he dismisses, entirely unprepared when Tanaka grabs his phone. He should have known better. Tanaka is notorious for being even brasher when he’s drunk, and he’s certainly drunk now.

“Atsumu-san?” Tanaka squints at the screen. Tobio sighs as the entire table seems to gasp at the new revelation. “Isn’t that Inarizaki’s setter?”

“He’s playing for the Black Jackals now.” Tobio makes a feeble attempt to snatch his phone back, hoping that whatever Atsumu just sent wasn’t too incriminating. “We like to trade tips.”

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[19:59] you absolutely do  
[20:00] it’s real cute you should see yourself

Fuck. Just his luck.

“That didn’t look like just ‘trading tips’.” Tanaka grabs his phone out of his hands again. Worse, he’s unlocked it to type a reply back and now the entire table is cooing over his chat history.

“Please give me my phone back,” he begs, swiping at the device without success as Sugawara moves it out of his grasp.

 _“Ha, we measured our heights today for our profiles. I finally grew the last four millimeters,”_ Sugawara says, pronouncing each word incredulously. _“How does it feel being a centimeter shorter?”_

Tobio fights the urge to hide his face in his hands or to dig a hole and bury himself in it. “Can I please have my phone back?”

 _“That sounds like a you problem?”_ Sugawara reads out, words slurring into each other. “This doesn’t seem like just a rivalry.”

“I never said we weren’t friends, Suga-san, please give my phone back.” Tobio maneuvers around the table, fear rising when Suga makes a bad toss towards Nishinoya who thankfully catches it. It becomes a full-on chase from there on when Nishinoya throws it at Tanaka, who hurls it back when Tobio gets too close.

“I think we should give him his phone back,” Hinata says, quiet amidst the chaos. Everybody pauses, turning unsure at Hinata’s tone. 

Silence descends on the table awkwardly, none of them knowing what to say. Nishinoya hands Tobio his phone. 

He breathes a sigh in relief when he checks and sees that nobody had accidentally sent a message, firing back a quick text with one hand.

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

‘Cute’ isn’t a word most people associate with me. [20:07]  
By the way, I probably won’t reply until tomorrow. [20:08]  
Dinner with the old Karasuno alumni. [20:08]

Atsumu’s reply is quick, and something in Tobio preens at the idea that Atsumu might have been waiting for him to text back.

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[20:09] you’d be surprised  
[20:09] no problem, tell em i say hi  
[20:09] have fun~

Tobio leaves the chat at that, hiding his smile carefully. Thankfully, somebody started ribbing Tsukishima about how the Sendai Frogs were doing this year, redirecting the attention away from him.

“When did you get so close with Miya-san?” Yachi whispers next to him, her expression innocent and curious.

Tobio glances across the table where Tanaka and Sugawara are busy arguing over something Tobio can’t make out. He sends another look at Hinata two seats up, hoping that he was out of hearing distance.

“Ah, we just started talking regularly in the last few months,” Tobio replies quietly. “We saw each other a lot over the last volleyball season.”

“Oh, he’s in the same team as Bokuto-san, right? I caught a few of the matches.” Yachi tucks a strand of her behind her ear.

“Yeah, they came second last year.” Tobio allows himself to smirk. “After us, of course.”

Yachi nods, giggling a bit before dropping the topic. Unfortunately, Nishinoya has turned towards them, hearing the end of the conversation. 

“You shouldn’t get mixed up with that Miya Atsumu,” Nishinoya leans close to whisper conspiringly.

“We’re friends, Nishinoya-san.” Tobio blinks, surprised by his brief surge of annoyance at the discreet slight. He’d hadn’t expected anybody to still be holding any sort of grudges, considering how close many of them were to members from other teams like Nekoma and Fukurodani.

“He’s not really the nice sort, is he?” Nishinoya asks. He’s clearly drunk, so Tobio probably shouldn’t take his words to heart, but he can’t help but feel a little offended anyways.

Tobio remembers text messages exchanged after Japan’s crushing defeat at the Olympics, remembers the exchange of “good luck”s and “you played well”s, remembers the warm brush of Atsumu’s fingers against his wrist. He frowns.

“Atsumu’s perfectly fine,” he replies curtly. “I didn’t think you would make assumptions about somebody based on something as trivial as high school.”

“Are you saying,” Nishinoya starts, deadly quiet, “that us playing volleyball was trivial?”

Instantly, he’s aware that the rest of the table has once again fallen quiet, tuned into their spiraling argument. His face heats up, swallowing heavily. He cradles his can of beer between his palms, resisting the need to take a quick swig.

“Of course not,” he backtracks, uncertainty flooding him. “I’m simply saying that you shouldn’t accuse people of being things they aren’t. Atsumu’s my friend, I’d appreciate if you didn’t make comments against him.”

Nobody says anything or moves. Even Nishinoya isn’t reacting, gaping at Kageyama over the table.

“I mean, I can’t say Atsumu-san was the nicest person in high school,” Tobio rambles on, feeling like he’s digging a deeper hole for himself by the minute. “But that was years ago. He’s changed. We all have.”

“He’s my other name,” Nishinoya says dumbly. 

Oh, that was news. Tobio tries very hard not to scoff because he has Atsumu’s name as well, so it wasn’t that Nishinoya was special in that regard.

“And he’s my friend,” Tobio insists. Unexplainably, he feels like he has to stand his ground on this. “I don’t see your point.”

Nishinoya starts to say something, but somebody coughs loudly to clear the air. It’s probably Sawamura. Tobio is endlessly appreciative nonetheless.

The conversation breaks up back into groups. Yachi shoots him an apologetic look and he waves her off. He’s not really hungry anymore.

It’s pointed, but he gets up to leave anyways, not heeding the rest of their concern. 

“It’s nothing, really. We have practice early tomorrow, I should get back to the dorms before Hirugami-san throws a fit.” He excuses himself.

He makes it five meters from the restaurants before Hinata catches up to him, curling a warm hand around his elbow.

“Let’s go get something to drink,” Hinata says, serious in a way Tobio has never seen before.

He’s taller now, even in the short few months they haven’t seen each other. They really have all grown up in their own ways.

“Okay,” Tobio agrees.

↢↣

‘Something to drink’ turns out to be at a coffee shop a few blocks away. Tobio’s glad to see that Hinata still doesn’t drink much caffeine when he orders a hot chocolate for himself, pulling a face when Tobio asks for tea.

He’d order coffee normally, but it was starting to get late and Tobio didn’t want to suffer from a sleepless night. Practice was back in full swing and Tobio liked to go on runs before to warm up, so any hour of sleep was much appreciated.

“You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said we had early practices.” Tobio shrugs as they find seats. “My captain isn’t going to like it if I turn up late.”

“I doubt you’ll be late anyway.” Hinata smiles back. Whatever Brazil had been for him, it’s clearly done him good. There are faint tan lines circling around his eyes and his smile is wider than ever.

Tobio snorts. They both know Hinata’s right about this. Tobio would never allow himself to be anything but punctual when it came to volleyball.

“Don’t take what Nishinoya-senpai said to heart.” Hinata looks out the window to the Sendai night, eyes faraway. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He’ll probably apologise in the morning when Asahi-senpai tells him.”

Tobio doesn’t doubt this. He’s kind of embarrassed at how it all went down now that it’s over, wanting to get a do-over for the whole situation.

“I probably shouldn’t have been so defensive,” Tobio admits, sipping his tea. “But Atsumu-san has been really nice to me for the past year. He’s helped me a lot.”

Hinata glances over, cradling his cup between his palms. “Is he one of your names?” 

Tobio’s gaze is drawn to his wrists, where his name sits twice. He still has the button from that day sitting at the bottom of the dresser next to his bed. Guilt pangs in his chest. 

Whatever Brazil has been for Hinata, it’s been good for Tobio as well. He spent the day after Hinata’s flight alone in his room mindlessly setting against a wall until Hoshiumi had come knocking his door down. It took him a few days before he stopped feeling entirely lost and listless.

Then Hoshiumi yelled at him for setting too low three times in a row and Tobio forced himself to get over it, at least enough so it didn’t affect his play anymore. 

_I wanted it to be you._ Tobio doesn’t say. 

“Yeah.” Tobio fiddles with his fingers. “Did you know that his name means _urge to eat_?”

Hinata hums. He smiles, but it isn’t awkward or forced. “That’s really interesting. It suits him, I suppose.”

Hinata has Tobio’s name on both his wrists and Tobio has most definitely broken his heart, and he is sitting here listening to Tobio talk about one of his names and he actually sounds interested. 

For a moment, Tobio desperately wants to love him again. Then the moment passes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises awkwardly. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Don’t be.” Hinata’s eyes are an echo of the first day they met, dark and deep and endlessly understanding. “I think we both weren’t the best for each other back then.”

“Yeah.” Tobio realises with a start. It’s true. Hinata and him worked like no other duo on the court, but Tobio had grown strangely dependent on him while Hinata couldn’t improve himself the fullest next to Tobio.

“I’m trying something new,” Hinata says shyly. There’s a flush rising on his cheeks and he’s clearly flustered. “It’s not a thing yet, but I guess that’s something.”

“Oh?” Tobio asks, curious.

“Kenma and I have been talking,” Hinata grins, bright and bold just like Tobio remembers.

“Kozume-san?” Tobio asks, pleasantly surprised. He remembers the older setter from Nekoma, he’s heard that Kozume was starting his own company soon. 

“Yeah,” Hinata scratches the back of his head. “His situation’s a bit complicated as well. We’re just seeing where it goes. ”

“I’m happy for you,” Tobio replies, surprised at how genuine he feels. “I really hope it works out.”

 _If you get really good, somebody who’s even better will come and find you._ Kazuyo-san had once told him on that fateful day. 

It didn’t matter what was written on their wrists. Hinata was his _somebody better_ , he was sure of this, names be damned.

Beyond names and volleyball, he and Hinata were always going to be fundamentally friends. Kageyama watches Hinata’s back disappear into the dwindling crowds an hour later, laughing to himself. Hinata and Kozume-san, huh.

Life works in such funny ways.

↢↣

On the seventh anniversary of Kazuyo-san’s death, a storm rolls over the city of Miyagi and starts pouring rain from early morning. An hour before he’s due to wake up, Tobio wakes up to the sound of thunder and finds that he can’t fall asleep again.

He drifts through the day, floating from one event to the next. It just seems that the day isn’t by his side, like how he almost slips in a puddle from a faucet leak in the dorm bathroom, or how Tobio digs for five minutes in the fridge only to come to the conclusion that they’re out of milk.

Nothing goes right for him, not the way he messes up tosses during practice or how his coins got stuck in the vending machine outside the gym when he tried to buy a drink, or how the sound of raindrops splattering against the glass of the windows makes him feel off his game.

Practice gets cut off when the rain gets too strong and the coach lets them off early so they can get home without trouble. Tobio feels restless without his fill of volleyball for the day, antsy, itching for something to take the fight out of him. 

Nervous energy pricks at him and he denies Hirugami’s offer to drive him back to the dorms. Instead, he pulls on sports leggings and a windbreaker and resolves to run the five kilometers back to the dorm. 

It’s not a long distance, something he can usually run within half an hour even if he takes it easy. But above the skies are gray and dark with no end to the rain. Water squishes out under his soles with each thud of his shoes against the pavement, falling off him in rivets.

Tobio runs the first three kilometers without stopping, the wind streaming around him as he twists and turns through the quiet Sendai streets, nothing but the splashing of the puddles underneath him as company. Then he turns right instead of left at the next intersection point, letting his feet carry him towards his childhood.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches the slope he used to run with Miwa and Kazuyo-san, pacing up and down the stretch of asphalt restlessly.

There’s no purpose to this, no sense of fulfillment. Tobio jogs up the slope, rounding the corner and turns around, going back down to the bottom of the hill, then he does it again. 

This isn’t enough, he isn’t enough. Tobio’s foot slips on the way down and he rights himself. Nothing feels twisted, but he scratched the back of his hand a little to catch himself. 

It’s nothing that wouldn’t heal within a few days and it doesn’t even hurt. It makes Tobio feel sick to the stomach anyways, staring at the blooming red rash. 

_Self-maintenance._ Kazuyo-san had always stressed. _If we are to fly, we must care for our wings._

Tobio walks the familiar path to the nearest convenience store, apologetic as the rain drips off him to the pristine floor. He buys a box of milk, the last on the rack, then settles on the bench outside the store to drink it.

Inside his pocket, his phone buzzes. Tobio slides the device out, the bright glare of the screen illuminating his face. There are a few messages from Hirugami, asking him where he is and if he’ll be back for dinner.

Tobio ignores them to flip to another chat instead, thumb hovering above Hinata’s contact. He thinks about Hinata halfway across the world, improving himself day by day. 

On the top of his screen, a new notification rolls in. Tobio reads _Atsumu-san_ , reads _you would not believe what happened in practice today_ and _bokuto is whining about it_ popping up consecutively and presses call on a whim.

Atsumu picks up within seconds, his voice grainy over the line. “Tobio-kun?”

“Miya-san.” Tobio’s tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth, like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of sand. 

“What’s up? You’ve never called before,” Atsumu laughs. “Butt-dial?”

He has nothing he wants to say. Tobio’s mind is a buzz of white noise and he can’t form the words. He can’t bring himself to hang up either, Atsumu’s voice stuck in purgatory in his head.

“Tobio-kun? You alright?” Atsumu asks, confusion bleeding into his words. Over the line, Tobio can hear him shuffle around, probably just getting home after practice.

“Huh, must have been an accident.” Atsumu mutters. Tobio’s throat constricts, the idea that Atsumu might end the call spiking sudden fear.

“Tell me about what Bokuto did today,” he blurts out before Atsumu hangs up. 

Atsumu makes a noise of confusion. “Tobio-kun?”

Tobio swallows, forcing out a sound to alert Atsumu of his presence. Thunder crackles all around him, rogue bolts of lightning streaking across the sky.

“Are you outside?” Atsumu sounds panicked. On his right wrist, Tobio can feel a familiar tingling. “Ain’t it raining up in Miyagi today?”

“Please,” Tobio whispers, pressing his phone to his ear. There’s silence for a bit, then a bit more muffled sounds of jumbling, probably Atsumu trying to organise himself.

“Well,” Atsumu’s voice is warm, with a glow only a good day of practice could produce, “Bokuto was trying this new blocking technique…”

Tobio hums, letting Atsumu ramble on about his day, barely listening to his story about whatever Bokuto got up to. He leans back onto the wall, letting Atsumu’s voice fill his mind.

Slowly, the rain begins clearing up, until it’s just a light drizzle across the city skyline. Tobio stands, breathing in the rain tinged air, glancing down the path he used to run with Kazuyo-san.

“Tobio? Are you still there?” Atsumu asks. “I’ve got to head to dinner soon, but I can tell the team to bring me back something if you need me to.”

For some inexplicable reason, the words hit Tobio hard. He does want Atsumu to stay, he realises. Atsumu who sat with him for the past few hours without question, Atsumu who smiles at him after every match with his fingers. 

That’s just—

Oh. _Oh._

“It’s okay,” Tobio finds his voice again, scratchy and shaky. “You should go to dinner.”

“Ya sure?” Atsumu’s concern warms him to the bone. “I’ll stay if you need, I don’t mind.”

Tobio doesn’t need it, but he does want it. Atsumu sounds so earnest and genuine that Tobio can’t deny him. He wonders how long ago they’d stopped being just names to each other, characters on each other’s wrists without any tangible form.

His world floods at the revelation, at the new possibility opening up before him. It’s been a long, long time since he’d last thought of Atsumu as an enemy, or just a character on his wrist.

They’re proper friends now, occasionally toeing the line of something more. Neither of them had any commitments to anybody else or any remaining ties. 

_I could have this._ He lets himself indulge in the idea, his head feeling light. _I could have him._

“It’s fine,” he says instead. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Atsumu’s voice, soft and tender. “No problem, Tobio-kun. Call me if you need me, alright? And get out of the rain, it’ll make me feel better.”

Tobio hums and hangs up, above the rain continues to fall, a listless gray floating above the city. Tobio textes Hirugami back with an affirmative for dinner.

Inside the convenience store, he smiles sheepishly at the cashier. “Can I get an umbrella?”

↢↣

_Then love comes, like a sudden flight of birds  
From earth to heaven after rain._

↢↣

On his birthday, Tobio wakes up to clear skies.

There are countless messages on his phone, Tobio dutifully responds back to each of them, putting care and thought into each message he types back. Tobio scrolls through the mass of comments he’s gotten on social media, stopping as he spots Oikawa’s new post, a picture of him with his teammates in Argentina, some cheesy caption accompanying it.

They’re been tentatively talking these days, mostly just to greet each other on important holidays. Oikawa even sent him a Christmas card this year. Tobio thinks that this is some sort of progress as well.

It’s always about the progress with Oikawa. Tobio only hesitates over the picture for half a minute before tapping like. This is progress.

There are a few packages waiting for him in the common area, including a box from Hinata all the way from Brazil which had arrived in the morning. The most striking of them all is an Onigiri Miya box somebody had sent over, which Tobio flips open to find rows of riceballs carefully packed into the box.

He texts a picture of them to Atsumu, getting a response within minutes.

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[08:47] they arrived on time!!  
[08:47] eat the ones with the green packaging  
[08:47] those are for you

Tobio unwraps and bites into one, relishing in the unexpected spicy tang of the rice, the center revealing crispy pork and a yolk. Curry katsudon with an egg on top, Tobio realises.

 _Shit, I don't think they come in that flavor._ Atsumu had told him once. Tobio grins at the memory, surprised that Atsumu had managed to recall such an unimportant tidbit about him. He wonders how much Atsumu must have had to bribe his brother to get this favor, taking another bite.

The box is filled with onigiri. Tobio reads the labels for more information about the filling, setting aside a few that interest him, then shares with the rest of his team who gladly accept the food.

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

They’re really good. [08:53]  
Thank you for remembering. [08:53]

**[FROM: Atsumu-san]**

[08:56] happy birthday, tobio-kun  
[08:57] i’ll see ya at the finals  
[08:57] don’t lose before then

In the pale light of morning, Tobio smiles, wide and real.

**[TO: Atsumu-san]**

I’ll see you there. [08:59]

↢↣

“Miya-san, that’s enough.” He coaxes Atsumu out of the seat from where he was downing another drink.

God, he hated the end of the season parties so much. He’d gotten dragged here by the rest of his teammates for the sake of solidarity who abandoned him almost immediately after arriving. 

He’s never going out to any sort of party with them ever again. In the last three hours, he’d seen things that are going to traumatise him for the rest of his life. He’s never going to be able to look at Heiwajima in the eye ever again.

The only redeeming factor of this entire party is that at least Atsumu’s here as well, pressed up against Tobio’s side.

It’s been another season's worth of victories for the Adlers, though they’d had one risky match with the Red Falcons which almost knocked them out of the finals. Now all the teams were gathered to celebrate the end of the season, but all Tobio wanted to do was to go back to his hotel room.

Well, he would if Atsumu wasn’t halfway over him, drunk out of his mind. 

“Let’s go.” Tugging Atsumu out of his chair is more difficult than expected, because Atsumu keeps reaching for what remains of his drink. Tobio hasn’t been drinking that much, considering his low alcohol tolerance, but Atsumu’s drink is sparkling neon blue and could probably be used as pesticide in any other situation.

“Yer invitin’ me over, Tobio-kun?” Atsumu slurs, clumsily batting his eyelashes in an attempt to look flattered. “I didn’t think you were the bold type.”

“I’m not sure you can be trusted to keep yourself alive until the morning,” Tobio sighs, frustration starting to build when Atsumu fights him to stay in his seat.

“Least I’m awake,” Atsumu huffs, shakily pointing over the room where Bokuto could either be asleep or passed out or straight up dead and nobody but God would know. 

“Or am I special?” Atsumu whines, all cutesy and saccharine sweet. “Tell me I’m special, Tobio-kun.”

“Miya-san, come on,” Tobio begs, annoyed when Atsumu begins reaching for his drink again. Looks like they’re going to have to do this the hard way.

Tobio bats Atsumu’s hand away and chugs it before he can think again. It tastes like the muddy water he’d drank when he was four and he chokes halfway, some of it sloshing out to drip onto the floor. 

Fuck. He regrets it instantly when it hits, his head pounding. Atsumu gapes at him. 

“Atsumu,” he snaps. “Let’s _go_.”

Obedient and sufficiently cowed, Atsumu follows him out of the bar and into the warming spring air. Tobio wraps his scarf around Atsumu’s neck and they walk the path up to Tobio’s hotel in silence.

It’s lucky that the club was so close by, Tobio muses as he lets Atsumu into his room, forcing the other setter to rinse his mouth out with water. 

His head still feels murky from whatever Atsumu’s drink had been and he already feels the beginning of a headache coming on. He’s entirely unprepared when Atsumu corners him against the edge of the bathroom sink, leaning heavily against Tobio’s back.

“Tobio,” Atsumu whispers, fitting his chin against the junction of Tobio’s neck and shoulder. “Are you mad at me? Don’t be mad at me.”

Tobio carefully detaches himself from Atsumu, mindful not to jostle him too much. He turns so they’re facing each other, the shitty hotel bathroom lights too bright.

“Why would I be mad at you, Miya-san?” Tobio asks gently, reaching to brush Atsumu’s fringe back towards the right from where it has fallen over his eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” Atsumu isn’t slurring as much as he was back at the club, but his accent is still flooding his speech the way it does when he isn't focused. “You didn’t call me that before, Tobio.”

“What’s this about?” Tobio pauses, testing the weight of Atsumu’s name on his tongue. “Atsumu.”

“My soulmate didn’t want me,” Atsumu confesses. “Nobody ever does.” 

And that’s just—what the fuck? Tobio freezes, blanking at the force of the statement. He remembers the first time they met years ago when Atsumu had snarled in his face about having a boyfriend, then a text at night, saying nothing more than _I broke up with my boyfriend_.

“That’s not true.” Tobio maneuvers the two of them so the edge of the sink wasn’t pressing against his back, holding Atsumu up. Carefully, he reaches for Atsumu’s right wrist, holding it between his palms. 

“You can’t say that,” Atsumu sniffs. Silently, he lets Tobio unwrap the tape on his right wrist, revealing the ink underneath. “Saying' things like that will give me hope and I don’t think I can take any more hoping.”

 _信介_. Shinsuke. _Trust and assistance_. Through the haze, Tobio can faintly recall the match in his first year against Inarizaki when their captain had been substituted on court. 

Ah, of course.

“I thought he was my soulmate then.” Atsumu’s voice is so, so sad. Tobio’s heart constricts in his chest. “Now? I don’t know. It’s hard to love somebody when you aren’t the one they want.”

“He didn’t want me,” Atsumu admits, hiding his face against Tobio’s collarbone. “He was a good person, Tobio. He was a good person and he didn’t want me. I loved him and he didn’t want me.”

Tobio swallows heavily, cradling the back of Atsumu’s head against his chest. He unwraps Atsumu’s right wrist, caressing the strokes of his name lightly. Tobio was wearing wristbands to cover his names today, a habit he’d developed from years and years of hiding, but he takes them off now.

Reaching, he lays their wrists side by side, _侑_ and _飛雄_ a matching pair next to each other. 

He’d never really appreciate it before, but Atsumu’s name on his skin has never looked so right. “Atsumu, look.” 

“I’ve got you,” Tobio says, jutting up Atsumu’s chin to look at him. In the too-bright light of the bathroom, Atsumu’s eyes are tender, the edges rimmed pink. Tobio hates the look on his face, wants nothing more than to change it back to one of Atsumu’s countless smiles.

He thinks of names on wrists, of text messages and a stormy afternoon in Sendai, Atsumu’s voice soft and tender. Atsumu’s eyes, fierce and gleeful after every successful play. Atsumu’s smiles, the smirks and the grins. 

_I could have this._ He thinks. _I want this._

“I want you, Atsumu.” Then he leans the centimeter down to press his mouth against Atsumu’s. 

Atsumu kisses him back. Tobio draws him closer, tasting Atsumu in every inhale, every breath. Their hands tangle, intertwining fingers coming together in a flurry.

The position presses their wrist together, Tobio’s right to Atsumu’s left, their names set alight against each other. 

“Tobio, Tobio, Tobio,” Atsumu calls incoherently. His name sparks to life in Atsumu’s mouth, the syllables slipping out like they’d been meant for this exact moment.

“Atsumu.” Tobio is a pyre, burning and burning to light up this galaxy between them, Atsumu’s name like fire between his lips. 

He takes them to bed. Tobio really is a creature of bad habit after all.

(Tobio wakes up first the morning after. They’d forgotten to close the blinds last night, but this way he can appreciate the filtered sunlight painting Atsumu molten gold cheek to torso.

“Tobio?” Atsumu stirs when Tobio tucks a wayward lock of hair back behind his ear. “What time is it?”

“Still early,” Tobio mutters quietly, arranging himself sideways so they can be face to face.

“That’s good.” Atsumu closes his eyes again, nuzzling closer to Tobio’s chest. Tobio stretches an arm over the taper of Atsumu’s waist, his body pliant and warm.

“Tobio,” Atsumu says quietly, like a lingering afterthought. “I wanna do right by you.”

Tobio hides his secret of a smile in Atsumu’s hair. “Go back to sleep, Tsumu.”)

↢↣

_Your kiss,  
recalled, unstrings, like pearls, this chain of words._

↢↣

It takes them until noon to wake up properly. Tobio orders room service while Atsumu goes to take a shower, admiring the lean lines of Atsumu’s body when he emerges with a burst of steam.

“Ya got any thing I can borrow?” Atsumu hums, toweling his hair.

Tobio throws a tank and a pair of sweatpants at him, unconsciously following the path a drop of water leaves down the curve of his jaw, dripping down into oblivion on the hotel carpet.

Atsumu’s shoulders are broader than his, something Tobio can appreciate when the fabric of the tank stretches taut over his back, highlighting the chain of purple bruises around his collar.

It’s almost too easy, the way Atsumu presses a wispy kiss to his mouth and as he rounds the bed, joining Tobio at the table next to the window.

“I texted my teammates, they’re not expecting me back for the rest of the day,” Atsumu explains, sighing in relief as he bends backwards and the bones all click back into place. “We’re gonna take the flight back down to Osaka tomorrow.”

“Are you hurting?” Tobio asks, taking a sip from his cup of coffee. Atsumu nurses his own, hair flopping into his eyes. 

“A little, but it’s in all the right ways.” Atsumu grins, wolfish. “Don’t worry, I like it rough.”

That sends a bolt of heat down Tobio’s spine, but he ignores it in favor of taking in Atsumu’s side profile as he glances outside to the Tokyo view. They eat in silence, polishing off the rest of the food with vigor.

“My other name didn’t want me either,” Tobio confesses quietly when they’ve both decided to just stay in for the day, lounging on the bed. 

“Yeah?” Atsumu asks, his eyes piercing, but kind. He reaches to lay a hand on Tobio’s from where he’d folded them in his lap, the gentle warmth tethering Tobio to reality. 

“I was too young then. I thought that as long as I loved him it would be enough for him to want me back,” Tobio bows his head. “I looked up to him so much.”

“He never even looked at me.” Tobio laughs, empty and hollow. Oikawa was always too busy looking at other people. “I thought I loved him, but now I think it was just desperation.”

Atsumu flips his wrists over so he can cradle Tobio’s hands in his palms, fingers light against Tobio’s pulse. He startles, just a little. 

“It’s not—“ he cuts himself off, blinking at Tobio.

Tobio turns his gaze towards the ceiling, exhaling hard. 

“No, it’s not.” It’s not Hinata, no matter how much Tobio wanted and begged. It won’t and will never be Hinata no matter what Tobio does.

“I just always thought,” Atsumu’s eyes are tender, understanding. “I didn’t know.”

“I loved him,” Tobio admits. “He loved me too. But we weren’t good for each other. We never would have worked out.”

They both fall silent at his admission until Atsumu leans over to link their hands together, palm to palm, heart to heart.

“Shinsuke,” Atsumu starts off. “He was always looking at somebody else.”

“I loved him, I really did,” Atsumu says, gaze faraway and distant. “And in the end, I still wasn’t the twin he wanted.”

“Sometimes you can convince yourself that you want somebody and you just keep lying to yourself until you can’t do it anymore,” Atsumu goes on, his eyes focusing to turn sharp. “I think that’s what we wasted two years on. Me trying to convince him and him trying to convince himself.”

Tobio’s throat is dry, the words stuck in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say, but he wants Atsumu to stop looking like this, like the world just ended and it was his fault.

“I think we sort of hated each other towards the end,” Atsumu breaths, vulnerable and open. “I loved him and he couldn’t love me back.”

“Soulmates,” Atsumu laughs in the silence. “More trouble than they’re worth.”

Tobio stares at the intertwined hands, at the bold strokes of their names written on each other. It’s ironic that they’d both gone through so much because of names that fate bestowed on him. And yet somehow they’d still managed to find each other, years and years later.

Fuck, what if—what if?

“Atsumu,” Tobio says at last, struck by the force of his epiphany. “What if we were soulmates?”

As he says it, he knows he’s right. There’s nothing possible that could explain just how right the sentiment makes him feel. They were both in love with the wrong people when they’d met, so they’d assumed the opposite, but there was nothing stopping them.

They were opponents on court, sure, but their rivalry had never manifested the way it has between Oikawa and him. Tobio looks forward to each match against Atsumu, for a fulfilling fight leading to their routine handshake.

“What?” Atsumu huffs, sudden and taken back. He turns to look at their wrists in wonder and consideration. Tobio watches the sun rise over his face as Atsumu begins to smile.

Atsumu laughs, the sound ringing out, and the sun bursts into fiery splendor in the space of their galaxy.

“Does it matter?” Atsumu asks, beautiful in his joy. “Who cares about some names we didn’t get to decide? I want you, Tobio. That’s what I choose.”

Atsumu grins at him, framed by the afternoon sunlight streaming in through their window, his eyes curving into crescents of happiness.

If this were a shrine, they’d both be young gods, bleeding gold and glory from their bodies. If this were a shrine, Tobio’s prayers have finally been heard and they’re all being answered. 

“Me too.” Tobio surges forward towards the Atsumu, kisses his prayer, pushing Atsumu down onto the bed to worship at the altar of his body.

Oikawa Tooru taught him admiration, taught him reverence. Hinata Shouyou made him yearn, made him want. Miya Atsumu gives him life, gives him love.

Third time’s the charm. Atsumu grins up at him and Tobio falls in love all over again. 

This time he does this right.

↢↣

A year later, Hinata comes back from Brazil. Tobio asks to take half the day off and goes to pick him up, helping Hinata carry his luggage.

Hinata talks a mile a minute, firing off about what he’s been doing halfway across the world at rapid speed. Tobio lets him tire himself out, laughing when Hinata crashes immediately upon getting home.

They’d arrange a sort of celebratory dinner in order to welcome Hinata back with the added bonus of getting their annual gathering chance. Most of the alumni had managed to make it, but Asahi was busy down in Tokyo and Nishinoya was still off on his great world travels, so they were a few members short.

A few of the younger generation had managed to make it too. Tobio greets Tokita and Shoji as they enter, tugging a jetlagged Hinata behind him.

“Sorry we’re late,” he smiles at the team he’s come to know as family. “Hinata wanted to take a nap.”

Hinata smiles without a trace of guilt, accepting hugs and greetings from everybody else. The last two years had really done him well. Tobio can barely see a shadow of the boy he knew all those years ago, the first time they walked into the Karasuno gym together.

Halfway through, the obnoxious tune of Atsumu’s cheesy ringtone filtering through the pocket of his pants. He excuses himself to go take it, not expecting the blast of Atsumu’s voice through the speakers.

“Tobio,” Atsumu cries over the tinny quality of his microphone. “Please explain to me why I just spotted Shouyou-kun on the tryouts list.”

“What?” Tobio asks and promptly crashes back into the private room, getting everybody’s attention. “Hinata, you’re—“

“Put me on speaker, you heathen,” Atsumu complains, Tobio complies, furiously jabbing at his screen to do so.

“Shouyou-kun!” Atsumu exclaims. Hinata’s expression turns from confused to sheepish in a second. “Yer coming to my team?”

“Why are you applying to the Jackals?” Tobio cuts in, ignoring Atsumu’s comments. “I didn’t even know you were trying to go for the league.”

“You guys weren’t recruiting!” Hinata explains, waving his arms around in vaguely understandable gestures. “I just picked the strongest team that was available.”

“Ha!” Atsumu cheers over the line. “Ya hear that, Tobio? He says we’re the strongest team.”

“That was available,” Tobio resists the urge to hit something, preferably Atsumu. “Why them, Hinata. He’s going to be so insufferable once you join.”

“You’re assuming I’ll make it pass tryouts,” Hinata laughs nervously. “Besides, isn’t Miya-san always insufferable?”

“Shouyou-kun, you wound me!” Atsumu chastises over the line. “And don’t worry, you’ll make it onto the team. Bokkun’s gonna be so happy to see you.”

“Listen up, Tobio. I have all the pieces now,” Atsumu’s smug, pompous voice resounds in the room. Tobio doesn’t even care that everybody is watching him at this point, he just wants to bury himself alive. 

“You know who else is joining the team this season?” Tobio can practically see Atsumu’s all-knowing smirk. “Sakusa fuckin’ Kiyoomi, that’s who.”

“You’re kidding,” Tobio pales, trying to imagine the lineup of the Jackals with all the new additions. “Wasn’t he playing for a college team?”

“Well, he’s graduating and going pro now, so suck it up,” Atsumu whoops with all the joy of a toddler. “This is the year we finally beat you losers.”

“Tsumu, I’m in the middle of something,” Tobio groans, wishing he could drop his phone in the closest body of water if only so Atsumu would shut up.

“Shouyou-kun, I’ll see you at practice!” Atsumu croons over the line as Tobio cringes. “I’ll let the rest of ya enjoy your dinner now. Tobio, get ready to have your ass kicked, love ya!”

Then he hangs up without another word. Tobio blinks at the phone in his hand, trying to make sense of the whirlwind Atsumu is. He gives up after the second thought. Sometimes in life you just have to let go. 

Everybody is still staring at him. Tobio flushes at the attention, cursing Atsumu out internally. He can see multiple people in the room start to speak before hesitating. Hinata sends him discreet thumbs up over the room with an exaggerated wink and Tobio can’t stop himself from laughing.

“Sorry,” Tobio grins, eating up the way the entire room seems to hang onto his words. He pauses to create even more suspense. “That was my soulmate.”

↢↣

A month and a half later, Tobio takes a flight down to Hyogo on a Thursday morning.

“Tobio!” Atsumu picks him up at the airport. “How was the flight?”

Atsumu was right, Hyogo really is beautiful. It’s not like the bustling crowds of Sendai or the organised chaos of Tokyo. He could really like it here, Tobio muses to himself as they drive back to Atsumu’s apartment.

Walking into an Inarizaki reunion is an experience. Everybody’s heads snap to look at him when he follows Atsumu into the room, but years of interviews and commercials have taught him how to be the center of attention. 

“Hi,” he greets with confidence he doesn’t really have, watching the room burst into a frenzy of chaos. “I’m Atsumu’s boyfriend.”

Tobio gets introduced to lots of people, many who recognise him. Funnily enough, he gets asked to sign a few autographs as well. After all the commotion and scrutiny have died down, Tobio asks to meet Shinsuke.

Kita Shinsuke is exactly like how Tobio imagines him, prim and proper with a quirk to his smile. Atsumu’s hand is warm on the small of his back as he guides Tobio over to the man in question, leaving them alone to talk.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tobio says genuinely, shaking Kita’s hand when he offers it. 

The thing about Kita is that Tobio gets why Atsumu can’t hate him. Kita is possibly the nicest person Tobio has ever encountered, and he’s best friends with Hinata. 

“Thank you for loving him,” Kita says as they part, instead of _I’m sorry I couldn’t._

Tobio can’t help but smile back, floating back to Atsumu’s side after the conversation ends. 

“What did the two of you talk about?” Atsumu asks him that night, dragging the blanket over them to lazily cover himself.

“Nothing much,” Tobio admires the marks he left on Atsumu, the trail of purple bruises over his skin. He never thought he would be possessive, but he can’t deny the pleasure he feels at having the physical, tangible proof in front of him on Atsumu’s skin

Names aren’t enough. He wants this, the easy intimacy and the lingering warmth. He wants it to be real and he likes that the marks make it feel just that way. Atsumu is a solid presence next to him, flipping himself over to expose the streak of reddish plum down the length of his back. Heat pools in Tobio’s gut. 

“Are you tired?” he asks, ghosting a hand over Atsumu’s bare shoulders, leaning over to slide himself halfway over Atsumu, whispering into his ear.

“Tobio, I need to be able to walk in the morning,” Atsumu complains, but he’s not pushing Tobio away.

Tobio grins. _Urge to eat._ He kisses Atsumu again, hot and heavy, then there are no more words that need to be said.

↢↣

**[FROM: Tsumu]**

[21:27] you ready to get smoked tomorrow?  
[21:27] shouyou-kun is gonna be playing, ya know

**[TO: Tsumu]**

Don’t get cocky. [21:29]  
Hoshiumi-san is looking forward to, and I quote, “kick you Jackals to the curb”. [21:29]  
I’m inclined to agree with this sentiment. [21:30]

**[FROM: Tsumu]**

[21:32] you wish!!!  
[21:33] i’ll see you on court tomorrow for the great showdown  
[21:33] sleep early!!! so i have have the full satisfaction of beating you

**[TO: Tsumu]**

Has anybody ever told you that you’re annoying. [21:34]  
Sometimes I feel like you’re just asking for it. [21:35]

**[FROM: Tsumu]**

[21:36] awwww  
[21:36] you love me for it~~

In the privacy of his dorm room, Tobio huffs a laugh, because yeah, he does. He thought he knew everything when he was twelve, that he’d made sense of his names and that was it. 

God, Tobio wants to laugh. How far he’s come.

**[TO: Tsumu]**

Don’t put words in my mouth. [21:37]  
I’ll see you tomorrow? [21:37]

**[FROM: Tsumu]**

[21:38] i can put other things in your mouth ;)  
[21:38] we’re still on for dinner afterwards right  
[21:39] loser has to treat

**[TO: Tsumu]**

Of course. [21:40]  
Prepare to break out your wallet. [21:40]

**[FROM: Tsumu]**

[21:41] worry about your own wallet!!  
[21:41] i’ll see you soon  
[21:42] love ya

Tomorrow, Tobio will wake up to the biggest volleyball match of his life. Tomorrow, Tobio will get to stand on court and play once more. Tomorrow, he’ll redefine himself all over again.

**[TO: Tsumu]**

Love you too. [21:43]

↢↣

_Huge skies connect us, joining here to there.  
Desire and passion on the thinking air._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not as happy about this fic as i am about the last but i'm pretty proud about what i ended up producing anyways!! this was supposed to have two chapters (one in kageyama's pov and one in atsumu's) but i ended up just focusing on the kageyama chapter lol and i like it this way better!! 
> 
> thank you to [neens](https://twitter.com/FAIRSTRlFE) as usual for betaing this fic for me what would i be without you bro <3 <3 <3 you really are the best to me!!!! and ty to marzanna for reading thru this as well!! 
> 
> title and the poem found throughout the fic is [rapture](https://twitter.com/chowleen/status/1016071661022572544?s=20) by carol ann duffy. i came across this poem in her collection of poems by the same name and it just stuck out to me so much!! and i feel that it fits the vibe of this fic very well in general!!
> 
> [HERE](https://www.flickr.com/photos/188472164@N08/49887314522/in/dateposted-public/) is a link to a chart of all the relationships in this universe!! the chart should be fairly self explanatory with red meaning soulmate and black meaning enemy. the arrows indicate that the person has the name of whoever the arrow is pointing at (ie. kageyama's black arrow pointing to oikawa means he has oikawa's name as an enemy)
> 
> I'm not planning on writing more for this universe even tho i did plan out more relationships originally (a lot of which were supposed to be shown in the atsumu chapter that got cut) feel free to ask me about them if you want!!! this also explains kenma's "complicated" situation hehe
> 
> ty for the mods for hosting atsukage week!! i was really excited to write something for my og otp hehe and this ended up being WAYYYY longer than i originally thought!!
> 
> as usual i can be found on my twitter [@BL4CKJACKALS](https://twitter.com/BL4CKJACKALS), i'm always looking for more friends <3
> 
> leave a comment or a kudo if you enjoyed, it means a lot :D


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